Blondes Have More Fun
by wawwhite
Summary: After the battle, Draco is forced to attend the Weasley after party.


It had been two weeks since the fall of evil, and the world breathed a sigh of relief. After a respectful and sincere period of mourning, joyous revelry broke loose in the Wizarding world. (Oddly enough, the Muggles also felt the urge to celebrate, but since they didn't know why, kept it to themselves.)

Naturally, the Ministry of Magic held a polite soiree, but the real fun began hours later at the Burrow in the highly exclusive after-party. (Highly exclusive, of course, meant the dozens of Weasley relatives, all of their friends, everyone who fought in the last battle and those who wished they had, other well-wishers, revelers, and anyone who could be dragged in off the street. There was even a few bewildered Muggles who had been towed in by over exuberant guests.) For the moment, sorrow and fear had been cast aside like an old coat; friends and family lost would be mourned in the morning, but now was the time for catharsis.

Mrs. Weasley was in her element, bossing everyone within reach and making sure there was enough food to go around for seconds and thirds. She and Ginny had decorated the Burrow in spangles, cheery lights, and charmed fireflies. Mr. Weasley was so excited that he went around shaking hands with every single person he could find, often more than once. It appeared as if they had somehow charmed the small house to expand; or perhaps everyone was so excited to be close to friends that it didn't matter how close they actually were.

All the heroes of the Battle were hardly able to take a breath as admiring friends asked them to tell their stories again and again. Neville was dramatically acting out his part in slaying Nagini with Luna gleefully playing the part of the doomed serpent. Harry had given up trying to catch Ginny alone and was carefully holding Teddy as Minister Kingsley tried once more to debrief him amid the shouts of admiring fans. Lee Jordan was egging on George, who currently was trying to spike the punch, but kept being intercepted by Percy. Percy was eventually worn down and gave up, while George quickly poured the firewhiskey into the bowl. Unfortunately, Hermione saw them and was about to give them a scolding when George threatened to kiss her, and she laughingly danced away. Bill, Charlie, and Ron were arm in arm, singing off-key about lusty dragons.

And least of all, sitting nervously in a corner, was Draco Malfoy, friendless and scorned. Not surprisingly, this was the young Slytherin's first time at the Burrow, and he was less than thrilled to be there. However, his mother had insisted forcibly that he attend, to get in the good graces of people we are indebted to. His pride stung, but he knew his mother was right.

In fact, sitting here was close to torture as his (former) enemies celebrated around him. He grimaced as Ginny ran by and sloshed her spiked-punch on his green dress robes. Grabbing a serviette that had fallen on the floor, he wiped his robes off and noticed that he appeared to be overdressed. Everyone else had worn casual robes or even Muggle wear, half-bloods and mudbloods the lot of them, he sniffed.

As three owls whirled over his head chasing one another, Draco began to feel desperate. He was too edgy to be bored, but sitting around in the shadows watching everyone have a good time wasn't his thing. He doubted that anyone would even notice him, let alone put him in their good graces.

So there he was, glumly watching the merrymakers, while wishing he could Disapparate back home (or to the moon – anywhere with less Weasleys.) When he'd had enough (it was the indoor firework that exploded above his head), Draco was about to make good his escape, but he saw a familiar figure weaving her way through the crowd before him. Blonde hair curling down her back, Fleur Delacour-Weasley delicately picked her way through the pandemonium.

Draco wondered for an instant why she was here, but then hadn't she gotten married to one of the Weasleys, of all people? He supposed she had, though the thought almost made him sick.

Yet he kept his face passive as Fleur walked up to him, "May I sit down?"

He bowed his head, "Of course."

She gently sat and leaned back in her chair, "Zis is a vairy wild party, non?" Draco only nodded, not wanting to appear ungrateful. "Bill is so vairy drunk, but I will not pity 'im in ze morning." With a flick of her want she conjured up two glasses of a rosy wine. "'ere, Draco, try zis." As he took a sip, she smiled, 'it is good, non?"

"Yes, what is called?" Draco was curious and momentarily distracted by the bedlam around him.

"White Zinfandel; it is from Caleeforneea in ze United States of America."

"Not a French wine?"

She waved her hand dismissively, "All wine is French. But we import some, and zis is especially good for a night of celebrating."

Draco smiled and took another sip. "It's sweet."

"Today life is sweet. Tomorrow, who knows? But tonight is a good night, with friends, non?"

Draco coughed lightly, "I don't really think these people are my friends."

Fleur gave a bell-like laugh, "Oui? You zink zese people are not your friends? Reediculous! Zey are good people or I would not 'ave married one of zem." Draco shrugged. "Of course, I 'ave 'eard about your family, but it would do no good to mention that 'ere. It will take ze time, but I know zat zey will forgive you. So please, do not worry. 'ave a good time tonight."

Draco felt more relief than he had in a long time, although he had no idea why. He nodded toward the turmoil, "I don't know if this anarchy is my type of party."

Fleur laughed and summoned the rest of the bottle. "Well, we will 'ave our own party and just watch the madness." She leaned in conspiratorially, "Ze blondes, we 'ave more fun."


End file.
